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eowynstwin · 4 months ago

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Ghoap x reader. Autistic reader. Christmas angst. Allusions to Ghost’s backstory. Salacious use of ribbon. Soap being inappropriate. NSFW.

Soap fidgets on the train the whole way over to the light show. You don’t notice, of course, your earplugs are in, but Ghost, hypervigilant for the season, cocks an eyebrow.

“Itches like mad,” Soap grouses. He tugs at the collar of his sweater, a ghastly thing in fuzzy green, red, and gold, with LED bulbs embroidered down the front.

Ghost scowls at him. Soap purses his lips, not chastened. You sit between them, oblivious, fingering the zipper of your purse.

There’s enough cheer on the train to make up for their collective lack. More than one person wears a dumb Santa hat, and at least every other has on something colorful and festive. It seems like everyone feels some sort of Christmas spirit but Ghost, and it makes his hackles tense up.

Your hand slips into his then, smooth like silk settling over his palm. He looks at you; your gaze is fixed steadily ahead, unfocused. He’s not sure whether you reached for him to find comfort or offer it, but he closes his fingers around yours anyway.

He looks over—Soap has your other hand. Reaching to find, then. He squeezes.

The three of you wait until the very last moment to disembark when you arrive, letting the crowd out first. Ghost’s choice. The absolute last thing he wants is to lose either you or Soap in the stream of people flowing from the train—Soap will get distracted, and you hate it when strangers crowd you. This is going to be a trial as it is.

Ghost has to admit—once they reach the grounds, the displays are something to see. Together, you walk through a tunnel of lights leading you to the beginning of the walk, rings of warm white gently shining overhead, and Ghost, despite himself, can’t help but admire how it makes both of his partners look like they’re glowing.

Then Soap tugs at his sweater again, and Ghost bites down a growl.

“Oh, hot chocolate,” you say at the end of the tunnel, looking over at a cart laden with a few big steel samovars. “I’m going to get some, either of you want any?”

“Cider,” Ghost says, softening the curtness of his tone with the tenner he hands you. “If they’ve got any.”

“Coffee for me, hen, if you don’t mind,” Soap adds with a smile. You nod, and scurry toward the drinks.

Soap eyes him. Ghost knows what he sees—his back has been ramrod straight since the bloody month started. He holds his shoulders the same way he might if he had his rifle across his chest. His jaw has been hard as a cinder block any time the market clerk tossed “happy holidays” at him when he did his best to get away as fast as he could.

“Don’t,” Ghost says.

Soap says nothing.

This is not their first Christmas together, but it is their first with you. The sergeant already knows how Ghost feels about the holiday; you do not, and Ghost wants to keep it that way for a little while longer.

Divining your feelings about anything takes a little longer than it might with anyone else, but he’s pretty sure you’re excited, in your way. Soap, for whom pine trees and glitter and the smell of snow in the air seem to activate a sleeper agent in his brain that orgasms at the mere sight of tinsel, already has a Wellington resting in their shared fridge, and artfully wrapped presents crammed under their pre-lit tree. The two of you together have flooded the flat with lights, candy-cane frippery, crocheted snowflake doilies, and ski-lodge scented candles.

Ghost, for his part, has scrolled various travel websites to figure out if assassinating Santa Claus is something actually feasible. Maybe if he defeats the final boss of Christmas he can actually sleep through the night at least once this month.

It isn’t that he hates it, exactly. It’s just that Christmas, to him, began as a hazy game of roulette, wondering if the wild animal of his father would appear to ruin the exchange of charity-shop gifts wrapped in reused paper, and then solidified as an image reflected in pools of spreading blood.

The last happy Christmas, he had to burn down. That’s no reason that he has to ruin it for everyone else, though.

You return with three paper cups held awkwardly in your two hands, and Ghost and Soap relieve you of your burden. Your cup has a peppermint stick jutting up out of it, and you use it to stir your steaming drink periodically as the three of you proceed.

The path leads through an army of glowing snowmen in mismatched sizes, life-size gingerbread houses, past multicolor balls tossed across the top of a frozen pond. Trees banded with so many strings they look like branches of lightning reaching up from the earth. Electric snowflakes dangling above your heads from netting stretched between lampposts.

Ghost keeps clenching and unclenching his fist. His cider goes rapidly cold in his other hand, untouched. He probably can’t get his money back for it, but he’s agitated enough to start a fight and try.

Meanwhile—it’s obvious, you’re enjoying yourself immensely. You don’t say much as you flit between installations, running a hand over the glowing bulbs, tilting your head this way and that like a curious little bird. You take your phone out more than once to open your camera, and Ghost knows you’re saving pictures to put together a slideshow later on.

More than once, you look back at him and Soap, and grin wide at some novelty or another. Ghost manages to nod his head at you—go on, little birdie, keep having fun.

“Jesus,” Soap mutters, trying to scratch at a spot on his back for the third time.

“Fuck’s sake, Soap, just take the fucking thing off,” Ghost snaps.

“Canna,” Soap says.

“Why the fuck not?”

Soap’s mouth slants sideways. He looks around for spectators, and, finding none within eyeshot, lifts the bottom of the sweater.

Bright, shiny, very red ribbon runs in two lines along the naked cut of his obliques—down past the waistband of his trousers.

Ghost tosses the cider out of his cup and grips Soap by the back of the neck, throws, “OY! Duckie! Bathroom!” at you, and drags his boyfriend to the nearby public loo.

It’s empty, thank god, so Ghost wastes no time yanking the closure of Soap’s trousers open. The ribbon continues downward, downward, the V narrowing and narrowing until—

It converges in a (somewhat lopsided) bow tied right around the base of Soap’s dick.

“Soap, what the fuck,” Ghost says.

The sergeant backs up, and pulls the sweater fully off. It reveals a latticework of satiny red crisscrossing his chiseled torso: lines of ribbon accenting the curves of his pectorals, his toned abdomen, highlighting the small indent of his trim waist.

Soap’s cheeks flush pink.

“Goes further down,” he mutters, not meeting Ghost’s eye.

“What the fuck,” Ghost repeats.

“Was gonna do a big reveal when we got home,” Soap says. “Start stripping when we got the door closed. That rubbish.”

Ghost, incredulously, snorts, and Soap smiles at him.

“First time you’ve laughed this month,” he says quietly. “S’ why I did it.”

Ghost steps up to him and takes Soap’s chin between thumb and forefinger. “You fucking idiot,” he says, and kisses him.

The bathroom door opens, letting in a gust of wind, and Ghost and Soap jump back from each other momentarily, before relaxing when your voice reaches them.

“There better not be a handjob happening in here without me—oh,” you say, stopping short.

Shoving the waist of his pants down further, Soap turns around to show off to you the full extent of what he’s done. It gives Ghost a good look at the pretty intersections happening overtop of the muscles of Soap’s back, and the dip of the ribbon down between the two perfect globes of Soap’s arse.

You blink several times. “There isn’t a lock on this door, Soap. If I get down to suck you off, someone is going to come in.”

Impossibly, Ghost snorts again, and then laughs for real, a full-belly guffaw that comes out a little more harsh than it should. But you grin at him, and the line of Soap’s shoulders, which Ghost suddenly realizes has been as tense as his this whole time, relaxes.

He pecks the bare swell of Soap’s bicep, and then the crown of your head as he passes you by.

“I’ll hold it closed, duckie,” he says. “Do whatever you want.”

He only leaves the door once when he hears you shriek suddenly with laughter—to find that Soap has decorated his cock with a peppermint-loop of red lipstick, all the way to the tip.

“Fucking idiot,” Ghost repeats, and cancels his trip to the North Pole then and there.

#ghoap x reader #ghoap x you #ghost x soap #ghost x reader #soap x reader #soap x ghost #ghostsoap #mwritesghoap #madi writes #unedited be gentle #merry Christmas etc

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ettawritesnstudies · 2 months ago

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About the Story: Releases Oct 31st, 2025!

When Cecelia disappears into a storm on the night before Halloween, her older sister Hannah must venture into faerieland to bring her home.

Armed with their father’s green coat, a steel pocket knife, and a red friendship bracelet, she stomps into the woods in search of clues. Soon she finds herself on a dangerous and extraordinary adventure, navigating between the Seelie and Unseelie courts. But secrets await in the woods, and Hannah only knows stories, not the truth about the threat that stalks their family.

Will she be able to rescue her sister and return home before it’s too late?

Meet the Girls:

Hannah Teagan

Cecelia Teagan

The Taken

Want to be the first to know about updates for this project? Sign up for my mailing list! I'll be releasing new illustrations, ARC reviews, and announcing preorders later this year!

I've been on Writeblr for fiveish years working on this story and it would really mean the world to me if you could give this a reblog to share it around to people who might not have heard of it before. I'm really trying to get better at this whole marketing thing and I've only got a handful of months to learn how to do that. Eek!

I drew all the chapter headings myself! I'm a self taught artist and I'm very proud of how they turned out. If you love books with tons of art in them, there will be a lot more coming. I'm hoping to fill the pages with beautiful drawings done by one of my best writeblr friends and I can't wait to share those with you all.

#etta rambles #writeblr #runaways #writeblr community #wip intro #character introduction #oc introduction #instagram is scary guys #etta's art

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rottenpumpkin13 · 1 year ago

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what would it be like if the firsts lived together?

They did live together. Once. Right after Angeal and Genesis made First Class, SOLDIER grew in numbers, and the living quarters were still under planning and construction. They shared a spacious three bed, three bathroom apartment later reserved for Thirds to share. Angeal still dubs it "the worst 14 months of his life"

• Genesis had his own cereal, but thought theft tasted better, so he used to steal Sephiroth's cereal and the two would have a physical altercation over rainbow loops.

• Angeal thought Genesis was a neat freak until he met Sephiroth, who made a color-coded spreadsheet to track the frequency of dusting different areas of the house. Sephiroth liked to passive-aggresively wipe down counters after someone had been in the kitchen, and took pictures of Angeal and Genesis as they were actively making messes to hold them accountable later. Apparently Sephiroth still has a scrapbook of photos to this day, which he labeled "Why I live alone."

• Angeal was the type to leave out a dirty mug Genesis used and never washed for days on end, refusing to let Sephiroth wash it, all to prove a point. Sephiroth would cave and wash the dirty mug when she wasn't looking. Genesis knew this, which is why he would continue to use the mug and leave it out. The same mug remained in the sink for all 14 months they lived together.

• Sephiroth is an insomniac and liked to fix himself meals at 3AM, which would give Genesis a green light to practice the fucking flute, also at 3AM. Angeal had never experienced true rage until he heard a half-assed flute version of O Fortuna while Sephiroth was actively beating a stake with a meat hammer.

• Angeal would refuse to cook for them as a protest if he found half-eaten food in the garbage.

• Angeal was also no saint, and his alarm used to be a loud guitar riff meant to get him motivated and out of bed in the morning. The first time Sephiroth was startled awake by loud rock music at 5AM, he thought it was Genesis. So he threw open Genesis' door and attacked him.

• Sephiroth had the tendency to leave all the lights on, even in rooms he wasn't in. This drove Genesis and Angeal insane, and they berated him so much for it that Sephiroth started to walk around the apartment with a jumbo flashlight. He would flash it directly in their faces when talking to them because he's petty.

• Angeal had a tendency to bring over any strange item or piece of furniture he found at yard sales or on the side of the road. Angeal couldn't understand how Sephiroth thought the giant, stained beanbag chair shaped like an eye he got at a yard sale for 3 gil was junk. He also couldn't comprehend why Genesis didn't want the antique vanity Angeal got for free at the flea market because the owner thought it was haunted.

• Everyone had different scent preferences and refused to compromise. This is why the apartment smelled like Banora White Apple candles, Ocean Mist, and Tropical Berry simultaneously. It smelled like ass.

• Sephiroth enjoys his peace, but couldn't meditate when Angeal was screaming at the baseball game on TV while Genesis was using a karaoke machine to recite Loveless. His Root Chakra is still damaged to this day.

• Sephiroth had to find out the hard way what a tie on a closed door meant, and that not all screams mean someone is in danger.

• Genesis had a phase where he would bring over random people from his nights out. The amount of breakfasts Sephiroth had with half-dressed women and men singlehandedly developed his conversational skills.

• Angeal used to have this mentality of "I'm the responsible one, which means I can take things without asking." He took Sephiroth's hair brush without asking once and forgot to put it back. Sephiroth retaliated by bending Angeal's favorite stainless steel pan. Genesis had to separate them, an exhilarating experience he never wants to go through again because the pan and the hairbrush were used as weapons.

• Genesis couldn't understand why Sephiroth and Angeal didn't want his "artistic french films" playing while they were in the room. Angeal's argument was "If I wanted to see balls while I'm cooking dinner, I would make this lasagna in the locker room at SOLDIER."

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #headcanons

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cognitivejustice · 5 months ago

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Over the past five years, renewable energy generation has grown at a compound annual rate of 23 per cent in the global south, versus 11 per cent in the world’s richest economies. RMI defines the global south as Africa, Latin America, south and south-east Asia, and excludes China and the major fossil fuel exporters in Eurasia and the Middle East.

Seventeen per cent of energy demand in the global south comes from countries where the solar and wind share of electricity generation is higher than that in the world’s richest economies. These countries include Mexico, Brazil and Morocco.

Importantly, these findings compare rates of growth, not total generation capacity installed. (This makes sense, since many developing countries started their energy transitions more recently, and are therefore starting from a lower base.) While the global south is not yet adding more renewable power than rich economies in absolute terms, RMI expects that trend to flip by the end of this decade, largely due to the drastic cost decline in renewable technology.

“Even with the lack of commitment from the global north, in terms of their funding for the global south, this technology is very much in the money,” RMI report co-author Vikram Singh told me. “It’s boom time in the global south” for green energy, he said.

It’s not only falling costs that are driving deployment. The global south could actually achieve a faster energy transition than richer economies, RMI argues, for a few reasons:

Richer countries went first: By installing solar and batteries when they were more expensive, more developed countries ate some costs and ironed out the kinks in deployment.

More sun: Many developing countries are closer to the equator, meaning more intense sunlight.

Less steel in the ground: Many emerging markets have less legacy fossil fuel infrastructure to deal with — and less of an entrenched fossil fuel lobby.

Finally, RMI thinks the global south has a geopolitical edge in the transition: developing countries are more open to sourcing the cheapest renewable technologies, which overwhelmingly come from China. By contrast, trade tensions could drive up the cost of the transition in the west.

#solarpunk #solar punk #renewable energy #solar power #energy transition #world

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shy-urban-hobbit · 1 year ago

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Collab with the wonderful and crazy talented @elmonstro . It was so much fun working on this with you!!

Lambert absolutely hated markets. As a general rule they were noisy, crowded and more often than not at least one merchant would try to rip him off once they caught sight of either his medallion or his eyes. Aiden however, had no such hang ups and loved to people watch and talk to various merchants about their wares, the stall owners scents turning to just a general wariness which was easier to ignore as he complimented the quality of their wares or charmingly haggled over price in a way Lambert never could (whether it was due to his schools teachings in getting certain humans to lower their guard or if it was just Aiden, Lambert wasn't quite sure).

He found his gaze wandering as he stood listening to Aiden get into an animated discussion about a spice he'd never even heard of, nevermind tasted. Some of the merchants looked to be packing away for the day, a mother pulled a fussing child away as they made grabby hands at a stall selling various sweet treats and he was pretty sure that young woman just pickpocketed the old man she'd bumped into but Lambert decided he probably deserved it, if the name he called her in response to her apology for running into him was anything to go by.

The telltale flash of sunlight on metal coming from the end of the row caught his attention. They'd done this enough times now for Lambert to know he'd probably be back before Aiden even noticed he'd gone and if he wasn't, the Cat would have no problem finding him again.

The stall had a surprisingly wide array. Lambert spotted wicked looking punch knives with engraved blades alongside the usual vegetable and carving knives. A couple of ornate daggers which were definitely more for decoration than practical use if the fancy handles and sheaths were any indication took pride of place front and centre. No swords but judging from how old and stooped the smith looked, Lambert took an educated guess that the heavier stuff was back in his workshop. Lambert was about to turn around and make his way back to Aiden when he spotted them. Nestled towards the back was a pair of daggers. Small enough to be easily concealed but the blades looking wicked sharp nonetheless. One had a slight curve whilst the other was straight as a rod. The handles had the exact same simple ornamentation - a line of gold filigree winding around and up the steel like a vine whilst the accompanying sheaths were the exact same shade of royal blue. A matched set then.

He was suddenly struck by images of those blades being cradled in dark skinned, long fingered hands. The sheaths complimenting blue armour and green eyes.

"Can I see those?" He asked waiting for the smiths nod of permission before he reached over. The balance was good and there were no visible imperfections.

"My son does all the leatherwork for the sheaths." The smith piped up, a note of pride in his voice, "Treats it right and proper so it won't fade or crack." Lambert nodded as he smiled. They were perfect. At least, they were until he saw the price. There was no way he could justify spending that much, not when they didn't know how far they'd need to make their coin stretch; even with half of their earnings going into a shared purse (which he wasn't going anywhere near. That was for emergencies and besides - it wasn't much of a gift if Aiden ended up putting money towards it too).

Trying not to let his disappointment show too much, he placed the straight blade back on the stall, "How much for just the one?"

Aiden ended up meeting him halfway, smiling when he noted the direction Lambert was coming from, "Why am I not surprised you got drawn in by sharp, pointy things? Get anything?"

Lambert thought about the dagger he'd managed to tuck away into the top of his pack. The smith hadn't seemed too pleased about separating them either, but a sale was a sale. He shook his head, wrapping an arm around Aiden's shoulder, "Just looking. You done?"

Aiden stared at him briefly before nodding. If Lambert's emotions were showing on his face, he was gracious enough not to mention it.

Aiden wrinkled his nose at the slop that was passing for stew in the inn's main room and Lambert found himself sharing the sentiment. It was to be expected really; the room was barely the right side of habitable. They could put up with worn, dirty mattresses and sour ale for a night but they drew the line at meat which smelled like it was about to turn, even under all the spices and gravy the cook had tried to disguise it with.

"Ugh. I'm going to go see if I can catch that vendor we got those pies from earlier before he closes up. I'll be right back." Aiden said, draining the last of his drink and dropping a couple of coins, leaving Lambert at the sticky table before he could reply. Not that he'd been a great conversation partner since they'd left the market.

Neither of them were overly materialistic: both literally and figuratively, they couldn't afford to be and Aiden had always placed more value on the thought behind a gift rather than its worth anyway. Lambert knew logically that Aiden would love the curved blade that was currently burning a hole in his pack as he was both excited and slightly ashamed to hand it over. The incident with the smith incessantly poking at a certain sore spot. They risked their lives day in, day out and for what? The cheapest rooms they could find and having to constantly compromise on little indulgences. He knew there were plenty of others in the same situation and worse but still. It made him question sometimes if the scars and constant vitriol were worth it.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a familiar head peering around the doorway, making a 'follow me' gesture before disappearing back outside. He wordlessly allowed Aiden to lead him to the back of the building where he used an empty barrel as a boost to start scaling the outside wall. Lambert followed easily, the old stone providing plenty of hand and footholds where parts had been worn away or broken off completely over the years.

"Here." Aiden said handing over one of the still warm pies once they were settled on the sloping roof of the Inn, "I grabbed a couple for breakfast too."

They ate in an easy silence, Lambert enjoying the taste of the tender rabbit and vegetables as he people watched. Once he'd finished, he stripped down to his tunic and lay back on the sun warm tiles, watching as the sky gradually turned from various reds and oranges to a deep blue as the sun started to disappear behind the mountains which dominated the horizon on one side of the town.

He turned his head slightly to look at Aiden when he felt eyes on him, the Cat was giving him a fond look which never failed to make Lambert feel like an awkward teen with a crush.

"What?" He huffed, giving a small smile in return.

Aiden shrugged, "You look good like this is all. Relaxed suits you." He shifted his weight slightly and as he tucked a piece of hair behind his ear - something Lambert knew was a nervous habit, "I got something else while I was out. For you."

"Me?" Lambert sat himself up as he watched Aiden start rummaging through his pack before pulling out something wrapped in plain brown cloth.

"I saw it and immediately thought of you and I was going to wait for a better time. But you seemed like you needed cheering up and besides, I don't think you can get any more romantic than a rooftop at sunset."

As if on queue, a musician started playing somewhere, the sound of soft fiddle music drifting over to them through an open window. They locked eyes with each other briefly before bursting into laughter.

"I stand corrected.' Aiden said as his laughter died down, taking the strange tension that had fallen between them with it as he held the small package out to Lambert, "Go on. Open it."

Lambert couldn't place why the weight and shape felt vaguely familiar until he revealed a royal blue sheath. Oh, sweet Melitele this couldn't be happening.

"The guy said that it was part of a set," Aiden started, looking apologetic, "But he'd sold the other one earlier. I-" His expression turned to one of complete bafflement when Lambert started chuckling quietly. Those chuckles quickly morphing into full belly laughs.

"Uh, Lambert?" He asked, trying to tamp down the hurt that was rising up at his gift being laughed at.

"Shit. I'm sorry Aiden. I promise I'm not laughing at you it's just...I got something for you too."

He reached into his own back and held out a package of similar size and shape, wrapped in the same cloth. Aiden took it, eyes widening as he seemed to piece things together, "Is this-"

"Yep."

Aiden's smile rivaled the sun as he admired the blade Lambert had handed over.

"You know." Lambert said as he attached his own to his belt, "I'm pretty sure there's some places where this means we're married now. Or at least betrothed."

"Do you want it to?"

"Huh?"

Aiden looked uncharacteristically shy, not quite making eye contact, "What you just said... about the...do you want it to mean that?"

Lambert's heart started doing somersaults, "That we're married or we're betrothed?"

"Either. Both?"

It felt as if the whole continent was holding its breath waiting for his answer.

"Yes. Both. Yes."

He suddenly found himself with a lapful of Cat who seemed fully intent on kissing him stupid until the need for air became an issue.

"You?" Lambert asked, looking directly into Aiden's eyes from where their foreheads were pressed together.

"What do you think?" Aiden asked with his familiar smirk, raising Lambert's hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles, something that never failed to get Lambert flustered.

"Let me hear you say it?"

Aiden shifted so his mouth was grazing the shell of Lambert's ear, "Yes. To both."

Their mystery musician switched to something more lively, not that the two of them were paying attention. Wrapped up in each other as they watched the last sliver of sun disappear.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fanart #aiden/lambert #aiden x lambert #lambden #lambert/aiden #lambert x aiden #witcher aiden #lambert #witcher lambert

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kittyplushy · 5 months ago

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Scale Maps

Going by foot. I don't have a plan for this fic, really. Just writing whatever comes to mind as I go. This probably isn't good writing advice lol? But here you are.

Woodbrook is a small town. The businesses, apartments, public halls and spaces are tightly sewn, an invisible seam in Mother Nature's grand dress. It's surrounded by green fabric, engulfing the tiny community with its trees. Microscopic from above. Insignificant.

It was safe from the outside world. The town lived inside a bubble, untouched by urban hands, only greeted by the wild that protects them. A fox in a flowerbed. A deer wandering the market streets. A bear dipping into a fountain.

Perhaps they were visages, representatives, angels of goodness living amongst the people that gracefully let them into their homes. They come to thank them for keeping themselves small and contained. Restrained from wiping the great expanse of flora that clasped Woodbrook in Nature's great hands.

The buildings rarely ever landed themselves in the forests. The residential area was small and humble. The concrete road ended at the foot of a field overgrown with grass and ferns. This was the gate to the forest parents wrote fairtales about. The monsters and spirits that guard the light tall trees, soaring through the sky like the steel rails of a prison. If you wish to release the beast behind this gate, come forward with an axe or a sacrifice and see the genocide of your folk unfold...

But two lovers do not believe these fairytales. They approach the forest with their eyes half lidded, squinting for the light, letting their lips run with other tall tales and lies hoping to keep each other away.

It's for your own safety. She, she, and hundreds of parents say in a whisper.

One wears boots, the other dons her sandals. They hold hands and circle the expanse of the town, only going further and further into the forest as the nights go on. On the first pilgrimage, the lovers roam the empty streets of the town. There is no curfew in place now, it is quiet and safe. Store owners, apartment renters, and commuters hear fragments of a conversation they have about their day or their favorite memories. On the third night, they experiment. They'll walk around the edges of the town, following the irregular oval it creates, only tip-toeing towards the great gates of the forest.

Then they cross dangerous territory.

They enter the forest. They trespass the great gates and nobody hears a whisper. Nobody could hear the anecdotes they share anymore but the spirits carry their actions, their plans, and their footsteps. A man finds the girl's glasses as he's collecting berries and mushrooms one morning. Children find the two cuddled up behind bushes and rocks. A path is created for the both of them leading to a clearing encircled by the moon.

They've scaled the forest that surrounded the town, pronouncing the radius it falls under, keeping the sacred land safe.

Safe with secrets. Safe from harm. Safe from influence as long as the lovers roam.

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notwiselybuttoowell · 2 days ago

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Donald Trump’s upending of the global economy has raised fears that climate action could emerge as a casualty of the trade war.

In the week that has followed “liberation day”, economic experts have warned that the swathe of tariffs could trigger a global economic recession, with far-reaching consequences for investors – including those behind the green energy projects needed to meet climate goals.

Fears of a prolonged global recession have also tanked oil and gas prices, making it cheaper to pollute and more difficult to justify investment in clean alternatives such as electric vehicles and low-carbon heating to financially hard-hit households.

But chief among the concerns is Trump’s decision to level his most aggressive trade tariffs against China – the world’s largest manufacturer of clean energy technologies – which threatens to throttle green investment in the US, the world’s second-largest carbon-emitter.

The US is expected to lag farther behind the rest of the world in developing clean power technologies by cutting off its access to cheap, clean energy tech developed in China. This is a fresh blow to green energy developers in the US, still reeling from the Trump administration’s vow to roll back the Biden era’s green incentives.

Leslie Abrahams, a deputy director at the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS) in Washington DC, said the tariffs would probably hinder the rollout of clean energy in the US and push the country to the margins of the global market.

Specifically, they are expected to drive up the price of developing clean power, because to date the US has been heavily reliant on importing clean power technologies. “And not just imports of the final goods. Even the manufacturing that we do in the United States relies on imported components,” she said.

The US government’s goal to develop its manufacturing base by opening new factories could make these components available domestically, but it is likely to take time. It will also come at considerable cost, because the materials typically imported to build these factories – cement, steel, aluminium – will be subject to tariffs too, Abrahams said.

“At the same time there are broader, global economic implications that might make it difficult to access inexpensive capital to build,” she added. Investors who had previously shown an interest in the US under the green-friendly Biden administration are likely to balk at the aggressively anti-green messages from the White House.

Abrahams said this would mean a weaker appetite for investment in rolling out green projects across the US, and in the research and development of early-stage clean technologies of the future. This is likely to have long-term implications for the US position in the global green energy market, meaning it will “cede some of our potential market share abroad”, Abrahams added.

It’s important to distinguish between the US and the rest of the world, according to Kingsmill Bond, a strategist for the energy thinktank Ember.

“The more the US cuts itself off from the rest of the world, the more the rest of the world will get on with things and the US will be left behind. This is a tragedy for the clean energy industry in the US, but for everyone else there are opportunities,” he said.

Analysis by the climate campaign group 350.org has found that despite rising costs and falling green investment in the US, Trump’s trade war will not affect the energy transition and renewables trade globally.

One senior executive at a big European renewable energy company said developers were likely to press on with existing US projects but in future would probablyinvest in other markets.

“So we won’t be doing less, we’ll just be going somewhere else,” said the executive, who asked not to be named. “There is no shortage of demand for clean energy projects globally, so we’re not scaling back our ambitions. And excluding the US could make stretched supply chains easier to manage.��

Countries likely to benefit from the fresh attention of renewable energy investors include burgeoning markets in south-east Asia, where fossil fuel reliance remains high and demand for energy is rocketing. Australia and Brazil have also emerged as countries that stand to gain.

The challenge for governments hoping to seize the opportunity provided by the US green retreat will be to assure rattled investors that they offer a safe place to invest in the climate agenda.

Although the green investment slowdown may be largely limited to the US, this still poses concerns for global climate progress, according to Marina Domingues, the head of new energies for the consultancy Rystad Energy.

“The US is a huge emitter country. So everything the US does still really matters to the global energy transition and how we account for CO2,” she said. The US is the second most polluting country in the world, behind China, which produces almost three times its carbon emissions. But the US’s green retreat comes at a time when the country was planning to substantially increase its domestic energy demand.

After years of relatively steady energy demand, Rystad predicts a 10% growth in US electricity consumption from a boom in AI datacentres alone. The economy is also likely to require more energy to power an increase in domestic manufacturing as imports from China dwindle.

In the absence of a growing energy industry, this is likely to come from fossil fuels, meaning growing climate emissions. The US is expected to make use of its abundance of shale gas, but it is planning to use more coal in the future too.

In the same week that Trump set out his tariffs, he signed four executive orders aimed at preventing the US from phasing out coal, in what climate campaigners at 350.org described as an “abuse of power”.

Anne Jellema, the group’s executive director, said: “President Trump’s latest attempt to force-feed coal to the US is a dangerous fantasy that endangers our health, our economy and our future.”

#excerpts #climate change #us politics #green technology #green transition #fossil fuels #tarrifs

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vijay34 · 1 month ago

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Green Steel Market Size, Share, and Industry Analysis

Rising Carbon Neutrality Goals and Sustainable Manufacturing Practices Propel Growth in the Green Steel Market.

The Green Steel Market Size was valued at USD 2.53 billion in 2023, and is expected to reach USD 141.67 billion by 2032, and grow at a CAGR of 56.48% over the forecast period 2024-2032.

The Green Steel Market is experiencing rapid growth as industries worldwide focus on decarbonization and sustainable manufacturing practices. Green steel is produced using low-carbon or renewable energy sources, such as hydrogen-based direct reduction, electric arc furnaces (EAFs) powered by renewable electricity, and carbon capture technologies. As governments and industries aim to reduce CO₂ emissions from steel production—one of the largest industrial contributors to global emissions—the demand for green steel is rising. The automotive, construction, and energy sectors are actively investing in eco-friendly steel alternatives to meet sustainability goals.

Key Players in the Green Steel Market

Some of the major players in the Green Steel Market are ArcelorMittal, Baowu Steel Group, China Baowu Group, Emirates Steel Arkan Group, H2 Green Steel, Liberty Steel Group, Nippon Steel Corporation, Nucor Corporation, Outokumpu Oyj, POSCO, Salzgitter AG, SSAB AB, Swiss Steel Group, Tata Steel, Thyssenkrupp AG, Voestalpine AG, and others players.

Future Scope of the Market

The Green Steel Market is expected to grow significantly due to:

Global initiatives to achieve net-zero emissions by 2050, increasing demand for sustainable steel.

Expanding hydrogen-based steel production to replace coal-intensive blast furnaces.

Growing adoption of electric arc furnaces (EAFs) powered by renewable energy.

Stronger government policies and carbon pricing regulations encouraging low-carbon steel production.

Rising corporate sustainability commitments from automotive, infrastructure, and energy industries.

Emerging Trends in the Green Steel Market

The shift toward green steel is accelerating due to advancements in hydrogen-based steelmaking and electrification of production processes. Companies like SSAB and H2 Green Steel are pioneering hydrogen-powered steel production, aiming for zero-carbon steel by 2030. Major automakers such as Mercedes-Benz, Volvo, and BMW are committing to green steel procurement to make vehicles more sustainable. Additionally, carbon pricing mechanisms and stricter emission regulations are driving investment in carbon capture, utilization, and storage (CCUS) technologies. The construction and renewable energy sectors are also increasingly adopting green steel to meet sustainability goals.

Key Points:

Green steel is produced using hydrogen, electric arc furnaces, or carbon capture technologies.

The market is driven by stringent emission reduction targets and sustainability commitments.

Hydrogen-based steelmaking is emerging as a leading decarbonization method.

Automakers, construction companies, and energy firms are investing in green steel adoption.

Carbon pricing and government policies are accelerating the transition to low-carbon steel.

Conclusion

The Green Steel Market is at the forefront of industrial decarbonization, with technological innovations and policy support fueling its growth. As corporations and governments commit to sustainability and net-zero goals, green steel is becoming a crucial component of a cleaner, more sustainable industrial future. With ongoing investments and breakthroughs in hydrogen-based and renewable-powered steel production, the industry is set to redefine steel manufacturing for the next generation.

Read Full Report: https://www.snsinsider.com/reports/green-steel-market-4429

Jagney Dave — Vice President of Client Engagement

Phone: +1–315 636 4242 (US) | +44- 20 3290 5010 (UK)

#Green Steel Market #Green Steel Market Size #Green Steel Market Share #Green Steel Market Report #Green Steel Market Forecast

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mandoalorian · 2 years ago

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Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

♡˳‧��*: • Chapter 11: The Abduction ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word count: 4000

Warnings: lots of angst, canon typical violence, sexual references

Author’s note: this chapter is very special to me. I’ve been working on it for two and a half months, changing things and perfecting it to the way I want it to read. I feel like a lot is answered in this chapter and I’m excited to share it with you all. If you enjoy, please reblog! It would mean the most to me.

Series Masterlist

Din didn’t come to bed that night.

Your body missed the familiarity of his warm, strong arms wrapped around you, holding you tight against his chest in his bed that was made for one. After an unsettling lack of sleep, accompanied by plenty of tossing, turning, and unconscious mumbling, you got up to grab a glass of water from the refresher. It was a ritual that you had become all too comfortable with; after all, the tin bed on the Razor Crest was a lot more different to your soft chambers back home. You craved for the moment you could return to your palace on Mandalore. It would be the perfect place to bring up Grogu. There would be so much space for him to play about, and Din would like it too. There was no better place to learn about his Creed and culture than Mandalore itself. Since marrying Din, there was no other person you could imagine rebuilding Mandalore with. He’d stay by your side and continue to act as your protector; your soulmate.

Nursing your cool drink, spheres of ice clinking against the glass, you lightly padded around the ship's hull, looking for your husband in the dark. You noted that Grogu was fast asleep in his hover pram, and you tucked him in under his favourite crochet blanket that you’d purchased for him back at the market on Nevarro. You were thankful that Din had at least put him to bed. You often expressed your dismay towards your husband when he let the little green bean fall asleep in the cockpit. Din was extremely trusting of the child; after all, he was just a baby and with his curiosity, you had no doubt that Grogu would one day give in to his urges and fiddle on with all the bright flashing buttons and levers. You were certain that Grogu would one day learn to be a great pilot like his father, but he was too young for that right now.

You sauntered into the cockpit expecting to find Din sleeping in the pilot seat but were instead greeted by an uneasy feeling when he wasn’t there. Despite the darkness both inside the ship and outside the main bay window, you’d noticed that Din had found a safe place to land the ship, in, what appeared to be a spice mine on your home planet. The mines ran deep and there was no real way of seeing an end to the tunnel, at least not from where you were standing.

There was only one other place in the Razor Crest in which you hadn’t checked, and that was the armoury. Climbing carefully down the steel ladders that led into the base of the ship, quietly as to not wake the sleeping child, you dropped into the repository to find Din, sitting on a stool with his legs spread, nursing his rifle with a cloth and some polishing fluid.

You instantly felt a rush of relief, knowing that he hadn’t disappeared or abandoned you through the night. Din acknowledged you were there, standing there before him in the dimly lit room, but didn’t look up or even address you. His gloved hands clasped around the barrel of the gun and he continued rubbing at it with smooth, slick motions, getting rid of oil stains and whatnot.

“Hi,” you said quietly, crossing your arms over your chest. He had you feeling vulnerable and small. “You didn’t come to bed.”

“Wasn’t tired.” His reply was short and monotone, not an ounce of emotion dripping from his tongue. It was only you and Grogu on the ship, in the middle of the night, and yet Din had still opted to wear his helm, masking his emotions… to him, it was better that way.

“Like you said earlier, we have a big day tomorrow. You should really rest.” You advised him softly. You wanted to beg him. Plead with him. Please, please come to bed.

There was a beat of silence followed by a grunt.

“Din?” your voice was timid. I miss you.

You walked towards your husband and took the pulse rifle from his hands. He let you with ease, not thinking twice to fight you on it, and watched as you lifted the heavy arsenal, placing it back on the rack where it belonged. As you hung it up, you glanced around the armoury. This was the first time you realised just how many weapons, bombs, and detonators Din owned. For a second, you must have forgotten that he was a bounty hunter before he was anything else, and really, you had just been one of his missions. You wondered if the Armorer had deliberately selected Din to rescue you because he was used to capturing quarry. You briefly wondered how different all of this would have been if the likes of Paz Viszla had come to rescue you instead.

If the stock wasn’t enough to remind you, the carbonite freezer at the back of the ship was certainly enough to refresh your memory. There was more than enough on the ship to take down an Imperial army, you believed that much. Still, imagining your sweet Din using an Imperial carbonite freezer proved to be difficult.

You turned back around to face him and noticed he’d been staring at you the entire time. Then, you offered him your hand.

Din faltered before he pulled off his glove which was now wet with dirt and rust and acidic cleaning gel. He dropped it to the floor and interlaced his fingers with yours. His hands were warm but rougher than the rest of his body, his fingers calloused and knuckles bruised.

You stepped closer to him, pressing your chest against his and extending your arm, cupping his helmet with your hand.

“If you’re not tired… maybe I can help with that?” You offered him a suggestive smirk, looking up at him with wide, doe-like eyes.

It took every ounce of willpower for Din to not cave.

“Not tonight.” He replied and dropped your hand.

You stood there blankly, absorbed in the pressure of his rejection. Din couldn’t bear to look at you anymore, guilt inside him eating him alive, and so instead he opted to spin around and check over his armoury one more time. He just needed something, anything, to distract him from you. He just had to get through tonight, and then whatever fate tomorrow had to offer him, and then it would all be over. You wouldn’t want his burden once you reclaimed Mandalore anyway, he was certain of that.

It all felt so fake to him. Of course, he loved you, but this marriage wasn’t going to last after today’s battle. He knew that. You were Mandalorian royalty and he was justa bounty hunter.

You watched him momentarily as he began to reload his pistols with blaster bolts.

Shaking off the feeling of rejection, you knew you had to confront him. It was now or never.

“Din… you’re acting distant. Did something happen? This isn’t like you.” You said softly. You placed a hand on Din’s pauldron gently, almost cautiously. Another silly attempt at unrequited intimacy.

Din scoffed and took a step back from you, breaking the distance. If only you had just waited this out, then he’d never have to engage in this conversation with you.

“What do you know about me, really?” he asked, venom in his question, regretting the words as soon as they left his lips. He saw your expression fall and his heart sank in his chest. Din didn’t mean to sound so agitated, that wasn’t his intention at all. He faltered before continuing. “It’s not like we married because we were in love.”

He was right, in a way, but the revelation knocked you sick. What exactly was he inferring? Why, for once, could he not just be direct with his words – say what he really means? Your heart felt heavy and it ached, not like it was breaking, but more so like he’d put this extreme pressure on it. Like his words bore the weight of a thousand bars of beskar. Was this his way of telling you that he regretted the marriage? That he wasn’t actually in love with you? Your worst fears had been realised and you felt nothing less than sheer humiliation that you, a princess, one of the bravest and strongest leaders Mandalore had ever seen, was now standing before the man you’d sworn true love to.

A foolish mistake that ultimately was your downfall, and nobody was to blame but yourself.

You didn’t reply to him. Your hurt was blinded by rage as he’d led you on all this time. Led you to believe that the feeling was mutual. You didn’t understand… he had been so kind to you, and so gentle. This whole thing had been a façade, you knew that now. He was a bounty hunter after all, and you were just a job to him. A duty. A liability.

Your face hardened and you stormed past Din, clicking opening the armoury and taking the rifle he had just polished; the rifle that you struggled to pick up but what he had lifted with so much ease. You took one of his belts, bandoliers and holsters, filling them with blaster ammunition and attaching emergency detonators. Grabbing everything you could, you spun around on your heel and began climbing back up the ladders, leaving in the dust.

“Hey,” Din stood up, his modulated voice deep with concern. You were already at the top by the time Din reached the bottom of the ladders. He called your name. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

You walked past Grogu who was still fast asleep and pressed a small kiss goodbye atop his forehead. “Take care, little one.”

Din sighed and began climbing up the ladders, and you acknowledged his footsteps getting louder and louder as he neared you. You opened the door to the Razor Crest and took a deep breath, inhaling the cool crisp air of the outdoors. It looked like it would be a long journey out of this mine, but thankfully Mandalore was your home and you knew it like the back of your hand. You had more of a solid chance navigating this planet than Din did anyway. Your name echoed throughout the walls and knowing Din was on your tail, you hopped of the ship you had called your home and started to run.

By the time Din had reached the hull, you were gone, nowhere in sight.

He yelled your name, panic filling his body as he checked his quarters, the refresher, the cockpit… everywhere. All of Din’s yelling had awoken the child who had started crying with distress. Din cursed when he realised you were no longer on the ship and bolted back to the armoury, jumping back down the ladders and grabbing everything in sight. Guns, stim canisters, his vibroblade. Had you really been so foolish as to walk straight into an Imperial warzone?

After about fifteen minutes of running straight, you finally saw an end to the tunnel. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, but there was no time to catch your breath. As approached the entrance to the mine, the skyline entered your view and your entire body deflated. Imperial ships… dozens of them ahead of you. With your fingers dipped into your holster, inches away from your blaster, you ducked out of sight from them and made your way to the destroyed palace you once called your home.

Decaying bodies curled up on every corner and you swore that the image of them would haunt you forever. They had been there since the attack on Mandalore weeks ago and nobody had come back for them. They didn’t even get a proper burial. Your lips curled into a deep frown as you headed further towards the palace. These were your people and as you whispered a solemn prayer you swore that they’d get justice if it was the last thing you could do. You wouldn’t let the Empire win. Stormtroopers were easy to avoid, but it was the hovering TIES in the sky that you were more worried most about. You made it to the back gate of the palace and the collapsed fountain was now in your line of vision. Although the marble statutes adorning the fountain had been decapitated and destroyed, the secret hatch behind the wall appeared to be intact. The Imperials had yet to discover the hatch that led into the Merenzane Gold brewery in the cellar. During the Clone Wars, your mother would trade Merenzane Gold to a pirate queen who owed a bar on Takodana, in exchange for beskar steel. The brewery had been out of business for some years, but further into the cellar, was your mother's Forge, which just so happened to be one of Mandalore’s very first Forges.

You rarely ventured down here even when you lived in the palace, for you had no reason to, but now you felt inclined to check on the Forge. It held so much of Mandalore’s history, you prayed it hadn’t been touched by the Imperials.

To your earnest gratitude, the Forge appeared untouched, and a pang of your heartstrings struck you as you ventured deeper into the gallery. The walls were dotted with beskar spears, weaponry that had been created but never used. The forge itself had been collecting dust, last lit when your mother was still alive. Wedged into the dip of the pit was a piece of paper, folded up into a small square. The corners had been burnt but as you opened it up, you discovered the words scrawled in ink were still intact.

It was a letter, addressed to your mother.

My dearest Satine,

I hope that this letter does not alert you and that my sudden need to contact you comes as no surprise. Two weeks ago, we parted ways on Mandalore, and I swore an oath to the Order that I would cease all contact with you, for the sake of my own commitment to the Jedi, as well as your commitment to Mandalore. This letter disregards my vow but I feel as though it is my obligation as your friend a Jedi, to inform you of my findings on Mandalore’s moon, Concordia.

Anakin and I have just left Concordia’s capitol, and I am afraid to say that a number of mining facilities have destroyed the forests, although I am sure you have already been made aware of this. Our intel suggests that the governor, Pre Vizsla of House Vizsla has been secretly leading the Mandalorian terrorist group, Kyr’tsad (translated to Death Watch), in these mining facilities and plan on opposing your government regime. They want to claim Mandalore as their own. Not only that but we discovered evidence to suggest that they are recruiting children, Mandalorian foundlings, to fight for their cause.

Satine, you have always been so gentle, and I do not regret the custom you showed me both in public and in private. Not a day has gone by where I haven’t pondered on those forbidden moments that we shared, and had things been different, I’d like to believe I could stay with you on Mandalore. I’d serve as your protector by choice, rather than duty.

Consider this letter a formality and do not feel the necessity to respond but please, be safe out there. I will always be here for you.

May the force be with you, Satine.

General Kenobi.

Ben.

Your heart sank in your chest. It was a warning letter to your mother, and perhaps the first time she’d heard of Death Watch. She had no idea of the damage they’d cause and the letter indicated the beginning of the end. An eerie coldness hung above your head. Concordia was the home of the Death Watch. It was the home of Din.

Your finger traced over the name of whom it was signed by; Ben. You had never heard of a Ben, and there certainly not a Ben of whom your mother had mentioned. You wondered who he was and why he had wrote to her with so much affection and care. Intimacy laced his words. You glanced over the blackened, ripped corners of the paper gazed over towards the forge. It appeared as though your mother had tried to burn the letter, but couldn’t bring herself to do so, and instead opted to hide it in the forge itself.

You folded the piece of paper back into a square and stuffed it into a pocket before feeling a blunt cold object press into the curve of your back. You froze in your movement and for a second you swore you forgot to breathe. You weren’t alone in here. You had been followed.

“You were the child of Duchess Satine Kryze,” a familiar voice declared. But where did you recognise it… the twisting of the foreign object against your spine made you remember all too quickly.

“Ironic… the blade that killed your mother killing you too.” Moff Gideon chuckled. “Poetic.”

“You’ll never get away with this.” You spat, fury filling your body, your bones aching with nothing short of rage.

“Oh, I think I already have,” Gideon smirked. “Bind her wrists and take her to the cells for interrogation.” He commanded his army of Stormtroopers. Two of them walked by your side, one pinning your wrists together as the other cuffed them together. You tried to fight it, kicking back at them and screaming as loud as you could. Maybe Din was near enough so that he could hear. You then stopped abruptly. You didn’t want to lead him into danger.

“Don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be.” Moff Gideon said.

“I have powerful friends,” you warned as the troopers began to drag you out of the forge. “You’re going to regret this.”

Moff Gideon let out a small huff of contempt before bringing out his blaster and hitting you on the head with it, knocking you unconscious. Everything went black.

The rambunctious green child yapped away as Din traced your steps back to the palace. He was on your tail, little did he know you had been abducted by the New Empire.

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • ✩࿐ ˚.✧\

Borrowed Time taglist in the replies!

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell@xoxo-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic@nerdypinupcrystal @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal l @castiel-barnes@honeymandos @rocketqueen @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth@moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet@pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog@artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon@cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33@sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor @pedro-pastel @steeevienicks@rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia @beskarprincessjenny @readsalot73@softmedics @jade10077 @dodgerandevans @planetariumx @pascals-cat @ajeff855 @spideysimpossiblegirl @smoldjarin @januarycolor @anapnovo-blog @pardebellesnuits @mi0o @supervengerslock @alitaarr @bigpepperpickerr @pedrostoriess @pedroprinces

#pedro pascal #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #Pedro pascal fic

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henglihong · 1 month ago

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Green and Eco-Friendly Blasting Media: Current Development, Trends, and Future Challenges

——An In-Depth Industry Analysis for Manufacturing Managers and Environmental Engineers

Introduction: The Revolution of Blasting Technology in the Era of Environmental Transformation

As global environmental regulations tighten (e.g., EU REACH, U.S. EPA standards) and the ESG (Environmental, Social, Governance) concept gains traction, the manufacturing industry is increasingly demanding sustainable surface treatment technologies. Traditional blasting media, such as silica sand and steel grit, are under scrutiny due to dust pollution, high energy consumption, and health risks. In contrast, green and eco-friendly blasting media are emerging as a core breakthrough for industry transformation. This article combines the latest market data and technological trends to analyze the current development and future challenges in this field, providing strategic insights for decision-makers.

I. Market Status: Policy-Driven Growth and Technological Advancements

1. Market Size and Growth Potential

According to Grand View Research, the global blasting media market reached $5.2 billion in 2023, with the share of eco-friendly media rising from 12% in 2018 to 28% in 2023, achieving a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 9.7%. By 2030, the market share of green media is expected to exceed 45%, with the Asia-Pacific region (especially China and India) becoming a growth engine due to manufacturing upgrade demands.

2. Mainstream Eco-Friendly Media Types

Plant-Based Materials (walnut shells, corn cobs): Biodegradable, low dust emission (70% less than silica sand), suitable for precision parts.

Synthetic Ceramic Particles (alumina, silicon carbide): High hardness, reusable 5-8 times, reducing long-term costs.

Ice/Dry Ice: Zero-residue technology, with over 40% penetration in the aerospace sector.

Recycled Glass Beads: Made from waste glass, reducing carbon emissions by 65% compared to traditional processes.

3. Policy and Industry Standards Driving Adoption

The EU Circular Economy Action Plan aims to increase industrial waste recycling to 70% by 2030.

China’s 14th Five-Year Plan tightens blasting dust emission limits to 10mg/m³ (previously 20mg/m³).

Automotive giants (e.g., Toyota, Volkswagen) have incorporated "green blasting certification" into supply chain standards.

II. Technological Advantages and Business Value: Why Choose Green Media?

1. Environmental Benefits

Dust Control: Plant-based media reduce dust concentration to <2mg/m³ (compared to 15-20mg/m³ for silica sand), lowering the risk of silicosis.

Carbon Reduction: Each ton of recycled glass beads reduces CO₂ emissions by 1.2 tons compared to new steel grit.

Waste Management: 95% of synthetic ceramic media can be recycled, reducing landfill costs.

2. Economic Breakthroughs

Lower Lifecycle Costs: In the automotive industry, switching to ice media reduced annual maintenance costs by 18% per production line (source: Frost & Sullivan).

Improved Efficiency: High-precision ceramic particles increase blasting speed by 30% and reduce rework rates.

III. Future Challenges: Technological Bottlenecks and Industry Collaboration

1. Technical Pain Points

Material Limitations: Plant-based media have low hardness (Mohs 2-3), making them unsuitable for hard substrates like high-strength steel.

Cost Barriers: Green media prices remain 20-50% higher than traditional materials, hindering adoption by SMEs.

Lack of Recycling Systems: Only 35% of global companies have media recycling equipment, relying on third-party processing.

2. Industry Collaboration Challenges

Lack of Standardization: Differing definitions of "eco-friendly media" across countries create barriers to cross-border procurement.

Insufficient R&D Investment: SMEs lack funding for new material testing (single certification costs exceed $50,000).

IV. Solutions: Innovation and Ecosystem Building

1. Technological Breakthrough Paths

Composite Material Development: For example, "bio-resin + ceramic" hybrid media balancing hardness and biodegradability.

Smart Blasting Equipment: AI algorithms optimize media usage, reducing waste.

Cryogenic Plasma Technology: A zero-media alternative to physical blasting (currently in the lab stage).

2. Industry Ecosystem Recommendations

Policy Subsidies: Governments should offer tax credits for green media procurement (e.g., U.S. IRA Act).

Industry Alliances: Establish cross-company recycling networks to share regeneration facilities.

Customer Education: Use Life Cycle Assessment (LCA) reports to quantify long-term benefits and boost decision-maker confidence.

V. Conclusion: Green Blasting—A Must for Sustainable Manufacturing

Eco-friendly blasting media are not just a compliance requirement but a strategic choice for cost reduction, efficiency improvement, and brand value enhancement. To overcome the dual challenges of technological evolution and market education, innovation, policy coordination, and industry collaboration are essential to transition this field from an "optional solution" to an "industry standard."

Keywords: Green blasting media, eco-friendly surface treatment, sustainable manufacturing, blasting technology trends, industrial carbon neutrality, ESG compliance

Data Sources: Grand View Research, Frost & Sullivan, European Environment Agency, China Ministry of Ecology and Environment. Further Reading:

2024 Global Surface Treatment Technology White Paper

Pathways to Carbon Neutrality in Manufacturing: Starting with Blasting Processes

#sandblasting #surfacefinishing #surfacecleaning

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howdy-cowpoke · 6 months ago

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TIMING: Current LOCATION: Farmer’s Market PARTIES: Monty (@howdy-cowpoke) & Emilio (@mortemoppetere) (+ Hector) SUMMARY: Emilio is at the farmer’s market picking up some groceries for Teddy when he unexpectedly runs into Monty. He’s curious about the man accompanying the cowboy, and tries to get a read on both of them — but doesn’t really like what he’s seeing. CONTENT WARNINGS: Emotional abuse/manipulation

—

Emilio wasn’t usually tasked with doing the shopping. It was something that predated his living situation in Wicked’s Rest, went all the way back to Mexico when Juliana sent him to the store while she was making dinner to pick up a zucchini and he’d come back with a cucumber instead, earning him an eye roll and a kitchen towel tossed at his face. He was probably worse at it now than he had been then, addled mind easily distracted by the creeping feeling of uncertainty down his spine and the question of whether or not the guy with the manbun running the booth full of artisanal dog treats was planning on killing him or not.

No, the farmer’s market really wasn’t his scene. But Teddy had asked him to pick some shit up and had given him a pretty detailed list, and Emilio was more than willing to do whatever they asked him to do whenever they asked him to do it, so here he was. Weaving through the crowd of the farmer’s market, glancing behind him periodically, and reminding himself that dog treat guy probably didn’t even own a damn knife.

“Tomatoes,” he murmured to himself, staring down at the list. “Yeah. All right. Know what those look like.” He steeled himself, limping over to a booth full of them. Some were green, some were red. Emilio had no idea if there was a difference. He picked up one of each, holding them in his hands and staring down at them. “Didn’t say how many,” he mumbled. “Might as well get a few of each. Yeah. All right. Tomatoes.” He turned to speak to the girl running the booth, faltering when he felt a familiar shiver run down his spine. He forced himself to ignore it, because it didn’t matter if someone nearby was undead. Emilio wasn’t going to stab a stranger at the farmer’s market. (Not unprovoked, at least.)

He grit his teeth, unable to prevent himself from doing a cursory sweep of his surroundings in spite of the adamant internal insistence that it wouldn’t change anything. His eyes darted over a few faces before stopping on a familiar one. Some of the tension bled out of his shoulders. Monty was an annoying, self-righteous ass, but Emilio was pretty sure the guy wouldn’t kill him. He didn’t even think the zombie noticed him, the way he approached the stand. He seemed focused on the guy next to him, who was more unfamiliar to Emilio. The slayer couldn’t keep himself from making a comment as Monty moved into earshot, humming in acknowledgement. “Didn’t think they sold food for your diet here.”

—

Despite the farmer’s market not having things that either of them needed, there was one man living at the cabin who very much needed human food, and while Monty wasn’t much of a cook, he was determined to have something nice waiting for Kaden when he got home that day. Hector, the cowboy was surprised to find, had significantly advanced his culinary skills somewhere along the way, so he could at least take solace in the idea that what they cooked would not be bad, if only… heavily spiced. And it might have been something of a peace offering, if Monty was being honest with himself. While Hector and Kaden had not been at odds, necessarily, he knew that Kaden still felt very wary of the man. So had Monty, in the beginning. But it was hard to not fall into familiar, comforting patterns, and so he’d relinquished all concern and hesitation in favor of having someone around who shared in his struggles, diving headfirst into repairing the friendship that had so heavily defined the person he’d become. And Kaden… well, there was a chance that Kaden wasn’t exactly happy about that. So they’d do something nice for him! A gesture that would hopefully help to convince him that Hector had changed, that he meant well! Monty was sure it was a good idea.

List in hand, Monty squinted at it a few times before passing it to Hector (who was a faster reader, too), and let himself be led from this stall to that, just enjoying the mild weather and his less mild company. The two were conversing in Spanish for the entirety of the trip — they both preferred it, and since Kaden wasn’t around, it didn’t feel exclusionary.

Both men glanced up as they were addressed, Monty’s expression quickly darkening. But Hector, who hadn’t heard anything of the (un)healthy rivalry these two shared, smiled. “Shut up,” Monty groaned at Emilio, glancing at the tomatoes in his hands. “It is for Kaden.” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to explain their presence there — it wasn’t like Emilio actually cared, he was only looking for a chance to start another argument. Hector, who had several very important questions lingering in his mind, was finding that many of them were answered purely by observing how the two were interacting.

“Ahh, yes, we are preparing a feast for the young man!” he interjected brightly, looking from the stranger to Monty. “... well, Montaña, aren’t you going to introduce me to your… friend?” Monty scoffed, keeping his eyes down on the produce and picking at it absently, pretending that he was trying to pick the best specimen when really he was just praying that Emilio would buy his damn fruits and move on. Hector, sensing that no such thing was going to happen, laughed and turned to Emilio, holding out a hand for a moment before realizing the stranger was a bit preoccupied with tomatoes. “Hm. Well, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Hector,” he introduced himself, instead pointing at the tomatoes the man held. “Good eye, by the way. Those ones look tasty.”

—

It was clear that Monty wasn’t happy to see him and, in a way, this helped to ease Emilio’s mind a little. The market was an unknown entity full of unknown entities. He couldn’t predict most of its occupants, couldn’t determine how the people running the stalls or the ones buying from them would think or act in any given situation. Monty, however, was a touch more familiar. The two of them were far from friends, but Emilio understood him, to a certain extent. Certainly not in the same way he knew other people, but well enough to carry some comprehension of what he did and how he would react. It was ironic, in a sense; he disliked Monty immensely, and Monty was the safest person at this market. Few people understood how Emilio’s mind worked, least of all Emilio himself.

The man with Monty was still an unknown, of course. Emilio could pick up on the barest of basics from the way he’d approached with the zombie — he spoke Spanish, he was someone Monty was clearly familiar with and comfortable around, he was in charge of the list so he clearly carried some of Monty’s trust. The way Monty responded to his light goading offered another hint — he’d specified that the shopping the two men were performing was for Kaden. No second person, just Kaden. That implied the man with Monty had the same disinterest in the groceries as Monty himself. Emilio’s eyes flickered between the two briefly, and he wondered if the hair on the back of his neck stood on end not for one undead presence, but for two.

“Brave to cook for a Frenchman,” he commented, sliding into Spanish with little thought. He preferred the language, but rarely allowed himself to be the first one to switch to it in conversation. Somehow, it felt a little too much like exposing his throat in a fight, like admitting that English was still a complicated, clunky thing even now. “He’s probably not going to like it. I know you’ve heard him complain about food.” Emilio certainly had, and he wasn’t the one sharing meals with the guy. (Or watching him eat? He wasn’t sure how dinner dates worked when one party was undead.)

His eyes slid back to Monty’s companion as he spoke, carefully studying him in a way that tried to make it seem like he wasn’t. The guy seemed friendlier than Monty, though Emilio supposed Monty himself might have been friendly to people who weren’t Emilio. He looked down at his hands, still full of tomatoes, when the stranger held one out for a shake. It was something of a relief when the guy pulled back; Emilio didn’t particularly like handshakes, anyway. Deciding Monty would probably be irritated if Emilio struck up conversation with his friend, the slayer nodded and vowed to do just that. “Emilio,” he replied. “I don’t know shit about tomatoes, man, I’ll be honest. Is there a difference between the green and the red? I’m not really in charge of the cooking.”

—

Rolling his eyes, Monty chose to try and ignore Emilio’s attempts to belittle their decision to do something nice for Kaden — just because he was incapable of feeling anything other than anger didn’t mean that everyone else was, too. Putting down the tomatoes in his hands, he was about to ask Hector if they could go look for some nice green beans instead when he heard the other man laughing at what Emilio had said.

“Well, we’re going to try our best to impress him! And yes, they’re very different. The greens are great for pickling, baking, or frying! They’re less juicy than the reds, and way more acidic. What is it you’re making?” It was a bold assumption, but maybe Emilio was just new to this — everyone had to start somewhere! Monty watched as Hector started to chat him up with a slight look of disbelief, then an indignant snort.

“Please, he is not the one cooking anything, that I can guarantee you,” he sniped. “It is for Teddy, his partner.” Hector raised a brow as an amused smile crept over his face.

“Ahh, I see… Well, in that case, if you were sent off for tomatoes, there’s a very strong chance that Teddy only wanted the red ones. That’s the safe bet.” Okay, so this Emilio person was not a friend of Monty’s, and had in fact brought out a very catty side of the other zombie that Hector hadn’t ever seen before. “I would say… the ones you have there, plus those two,” he added, gesturing at a few more that sat near Emilio. “This really is a small town, eh? I feel like every time we leave the cabin, we are running into someone else that Montaña knows.” He wanted to ask how they’d met, but could already tell that Monty was primed to shut that conversation down as soon as it began. So instead, because he was genuinely enjoying himself at his friend’s expense… “What do you do, Emilio?”

—

Monty’s friend was… well, friendly. Somehow, Emilio was caught off guard by it. It was entirely due to the fact that Hector was here with Monty, of course; Emilio tended to expect most people would try to kill him upon first meetings, and anything less than that was always something of a surprise. But the fact that this man was here with Monty made his eagerness to help seem all the stranger. Was it arrogant to have assumed Monty might have spoken of him? It would make sense for the zombie to offer Hector a word of warning, if Hector was what Emilio suspected he might be. Evidently, though, the cowboy hadn’t seen this as something that was necessary. Emilio wasn’t sure how to feel about that, wasn’t sure if it felt like an insult or came as a relief. When you’d been one thing all your life, it was jarring to realize that no one considered it to be true of you anymore.

He was about to tell Hector that he wasn’t the one doing the cooking when Monty beat him to it, sounding rather irritated in the process. Emilio let his eyes slide over to the zombie, brows shooting up in an expression that could really only be described as smug before he looked back to Hector. “They like to cook,” he added. “Always ‘experimenting’ in the kitchen. Half of it looks like it’ll eat you before you have a chance to eat it, but it’s usually good.” Not that Emilio ate most of it; his appetite had never quite returned to him after the massacre and, most days, Teddy had to trick him into eating anything at all. But he liked complimenting their cooking, and he liked how pissed off Monty looked at his conversation with Hector, so he kept it going anyway.

And… it turned out, Hector was helpful. This, too, came as a surprise. Emilio nodded thoughtfully, putting the green tomatoes back in the stand. He picked up the ones Hector indicated, nodding again. “That’s very helpful,” he commented. “I appreciate that. I’m not much of a shopper. Someone else is usually in charge of this kind of thing, but I guess I’ll do in a pinch.” Were it not for Monty’s presence, he might have turned away there and let the conversation end. Emilio wasn’t social, after all, and had no real desire to continue getting to know… anyone, really. But Monty was there, and he was irritated, and that was enough for Emilio to decide this conversation was worth his time after all. “I’m a private investigator. I have a small firm in town, take on as many cases as I can keep up with. How about you?”

—

That was a curious way to describe someone’s cooking, Hector thought. Monty, having been inside the house before, felt that it sounded appropriate — but he wasn’t invested in this conversation. In fact, he’d rather be anywhere else, talking to anyone else, but Hector was doing what he always did. The man had never lost that ability to command a room, or in this case, strike up conversation with the unlikeliest of strangers and immediately get on their good side. Of course Emilio’s willingness to continue talking probably had a lot to do with the way Monty was frowning at them from the other end of the stall’s display table, but pretending he was happy to see the slayer wasn’t going to make anything better.

Hector chuckled, giving Emilio a shrug. “Ah, me? I’m kind of… in between jobs right now. Just got into town not that long ago, you know? Always on the lookout for opportunities. I guess that makes me a freelancer for… odd requests.” He always had to be his own boss, Monty knew that much. “But hey, if you still have some things you need to pick up for Teddy, we’d be happy to help! Wouldn’t we, Montaña?” Monty looked absolutely gobsmacked.

“Have I not suffered enough?” he answered lamely.

“Oh, come on now, it’s just some vegetables,” Hector argued with an amused grin. He nodded at Emilio and his handful of tomatoes. “Pay for those, then let’s figure out what you need next, ah? I’ll make sure whatever you grab isn’t going to put a spanner in the works.”

Monty could have continued to argue, but he knew better. Hector had his mind set on this for whatever reason, and honestly, he was too damn beaten down from everything that had happened lately to complain about it any more. He might’ve told Emilio (or both of them) to fuck off at one time, but he didn’t have the anger in him for it anymore. So he just rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head, hoping that Emilio had a short grocery list.

—

The ever-present unease that had lived in his head for years now meant that Emilio was dissecting every word from Hector’s mouth as soon as the syllables settled. He was new to town and between jobs, which meant his friendship with Monty likely predated his time in Wicked’s Rest. The two seemed too comfortable around each other to have only just met. How far back did it go, then? Hector’s accent was from Mexico, but Emilio had no idea how much time Monty had spent in their shared home country after being turned. Had he fled the moment Emilio’s ancestor refused to kill him, or had he stayed longer? Had he met Hector in Mexico, or had the pair run into one another out in the world, just as Emilio and Monty had? The questions swirled in the detective’s mind, eyes darting between the pair carefully as he tried to narrow things down further.

It was hard to say if it was the mystery or the promise of bothering Monty that made Hector’s offer to stick around feel tempting instead of annoying. Most days, Emilio had little desire for companionship from someone he’d only just met in a casual setting. There were too many people in this town already who’d fooled themselves into thinking he was someone worth hanging around, and he didn’t tend to jump at the opportunity to add to that list. But he wanted to know more about Hector, even if only for the sake of his own suspicious curiosity, and he wanted to annoy Monty, even if only to satisfy his petty streak, so he nodded.

“Ah, I’d appreciate that,” he said, flashing Monty a shit-eating grin. “I’m a little out of my depth here. Never been much good at groceries.” Especially not when there were so many options available to him. It was a stupid thing to feel overwhelmed about; Emilio felt like he was drowning all the same.

Turning back to the person manning the tomato booth, Emilio passed some cash over with a nod. At least that part was the same no matter where you were. With the tomatoes bagged for easy transport and his wallet tucked back into his back pocket, he turned back to the pair of undead men. Pulling out the list he’d been provided with, he held it up. “Got a few more ingredients I need to pick up,” he commented. “No idea what it’s all for.” He’d found it was better not to guess, with Teddy’s cooking.

Scooting away from the tomato booth and immediately finding it a little easier to breathe with a few less people surrounding him, Emilio headed towards the next target. He glanced back to see if Hector and Monty would follow, nodding to Hector again. “So, what brings you to town?” Was he here for Monty, or had running into him been a surprise?

—

Arms folded across his chest, Monty followed after the pair, taking up the rear with his head down. It felt familiar, in a way. Back in their livelier days, Monty had often followed the other man around, trying to learn how it was that he managed to charm everyone he talked to, or even just as a support in case he needed anything. He’d often fade into the background while Hector talked jobs with other, more experienced gang members, absorbing as much as he could until their leader would eventually turn to him with a grin and clap a hand across the back of his neck, announcing that Monty would be joining the team for this one. So, as he walked and the other two talked, he felt somehow comforted more than he felt annoyed or awkward stepping back into those very well-worn shoes.

“Well, if I am honest, I heard about the fire.” Hector glanced back at Monty, who failed to acknowledge the statement and instead just kept his gaze focused on his boots. “I had been looking for him for some time, but he did not make himself easy to find. Then one day, I saw his name in print and had to come see for myself. So I set up camp on his farm and waited.” He seemed proud of this, wearing a satisfied smile. “And he turned up, of course. He’s always been very good at coming when called — I do not even have to speak the commands anymore.” Monty lifted his head now, furrowing his brows at Hector, wondering what on earth he meant by that. Why would he say something like that to a perfect stranger? There wasn’t any time to protest, however, because Hector was barrelling through the brief pause with a sharp inhale and a very animated glance downward at Emilio’s list. “So! What is next, my friend? Ahh, yes… I think those are this way!” Lifting his head and pointing to their right, Hector motioned for the other two to follow. Monty hugged his arms to himself a little tighter, avoiding Emilio’s gaze as they carved their way through the thin crowd and over to the next booth.

—

There was something off about the way Hector spoke about Monty. Emilio sent a subtle glance back towards the cowboy, trying to gauge his reaction. If Monty made himself hard to find, had he been hiding from Hector? The pair seemed friendly now, but he figured Monty was more likely to put on an act in front of him than anyone else. And the rest of it… saying Monty came when called, as if he was a dog responding to his owner’s sharp whistle… It didn’t sit quite right in Emilio’s chest. He wouldn’t pretend he was Monty’s biggest fan, but the fact that he knew the guy put him above Hector on the list of people Emilio wasn’t entirely uncertain about. He didn’t trust Monty — he was pretty sure the guy would leave him to die in a heartbeat, even if he was too self righteous to kill him directly — but he was, at the very least, a known entity. Hector was something else; something dangerous, maybe.

Or maybe Emilio’s paranoia was getting the best of him. He’d thought the guy with the manbun and the homemade dog treats was dangerous, too, after all.

He tried to push his uncertainty to the side, tried to remind himself that he didn’t really care one way or another. Monty was surely capable of taking care of himself, so it made no difference to Emilio what his ‘friend’s’ intentions might be. Presumably, Kaden was aware of the situation, too, and that was someone the slayer did trust. He figured, between the two of them, a skilled ranger and a guy who was probably pushing two hundred could take care of themselves.

“I was sorry to hear about the farm,” he commented, glancing back to Monty again. The apologetic tone was a genuine one, though he wasn’t sure Monty would accept it as such. “I guess it’s good Monty’s got your support.” He kept his eyes on the cowboy as he said it, waiting for a reaction. Was Monty happy with the ‘support?’ He avoided Emilio’s gaze in a way that made it difficult to tell. The detective studied him for a heartbeat more before turning back to his shopping list, nodding his head. He followed Hector as he led the way to the next booth, still looking at Monty out of the corner of his eye. “My partner can be picky on ingredients. We’ll have to make sure we get the best ones.” And maximize the amount of time he could spend trying to figure Hector out. (Not that he gave a shit or anything; he was just curious. That was all.)

—

A brief, melancholic glance was spared in Emilio’s direction when he expressed his condolences — it was funny, really. He’d come to the farm the first time to kill someone who worked there. Had threatened to do it again if he found out that Monty was protecting anyone he wanted dead. How could he be sorry? How could a slayer be sorry that a community of undead had been almost completely wiped from existence?

Yet his tone wasn’t the snarky, sarcastic one he usually used around Monty. It didn’t seem to be digging for any kind of specific response, or trying to egg him on in a way that would end up with Monty upset and Emilio either amused or threatening to do something he wouldn’t like. It was just that — sympathy. Or pity, maybe. That felt more likely.

His gaze darted back to the ground when Emilio said he must be glad for the support. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure yet. Some things about it seemed good. There was comfort in that familiarity, in having someone around who shared his complicated, bloody past. But Monty wasn’t sure that Hector had moved beyond that past, especially not with comments like the one he’d made about Monty being… the way that he was. It wasn’t untrue what he said, but it didn’t feel quite right. Still familiar, but something that Monty had grown unaccustomed to. Still, if he stayed too quiet, then Emilio might read into it too much. And Monty didn’t want to accidentally reveal anything about himself that he wasn’t prepared for someone like Emilio to know, so he just laughed a hollow laugh and nodded. “Yes! Very grateful for Hector’s…” Help wasn’t the word. “... presence. It had been a while. Always good to have your friends around.”

Hector smiled at him in a way that almost felt approving, and that confused, annoying anxiety was swirling in his gut again in seconds. “Of course, of course, only the best,” Hector agreed, attention having returned to Emilio and his list.

For the most part, Monty hung back while the other two men went around and completed both shopping lists. He was handed bags to carry, Hector of course far too busy helping Emilio pick out the best of the best to be bothered with lugging produce around. He didn’t really speak unless spoken to, and by the time both lists had been completed, he’d lapsed into a state of distracted staring off into space and only half-listening to their conversations. Hector chided him for it once, but Monty tried to brush it off by saying he was thinking of work that still needed to be done at the cabin. Which wasn’t untrue, there was a lot that could be done to the makeshift pen and stable that they’d erected on the property and he was often thinking of ways to improve it, but… well. He just didn’t care for this situation, nor the way Hector seemed intent on getting Emilio to like him. He was agreeable, warm, and helpful — all the things he’d been back in the 1800s, when a teenage, captive Monty had been untied from that tree and brought to meet him. It was how he drew people in. Always had been. Then he’d start asking things of them, but Monty wasn’t sure that was the case here. More likely, he was just looking for something to lord over Monty in moments of impatience or anger.

—

Reading people was the kind of thing you needed to be decent at if you got into as many scrapes as Emilio did. Understanding a person’s body language allowed you to decipher whether they were going to start throwing punches or buy you a drink when you pushed their buttons, let you decide whether someone was a threat or a nuisance. (Monty had always been the latter.) Emilio had gotten good at it over the years, had started figuring it out as a kid who had to try a little too hard to please his mother and carried it with him until he was an adult at a farmer’s market standing between two undead men.

He stared at Monty a moment, dissected his hesitation and his carefully chosen words. The pause before he described Hector’s assistance as little more than his presence, the intentional choice in terminology. Coupled with the way Hector had spoken about Monty, and Emilio wondered if the two were friends at all or if there was something else going on. They seemed familiar with each other, but familiarity didn’t always equate to fondness. He thought of Lucio, turning up again out of the blue and turning his life upside down. He thought of Rhett, who had been both a welcome and unwelcome presence from his past. Maybe this was something closer to that, some uncomfortable uncertainty shrouded with a past obligation. Monty described Hector as a friend, but was that just because there was no word that really fit?

Emilio studied Monty a moment longer before turning back to Hector, not wanting to alert either man to his own uncertainty. Monty would only grow defensive, and Hector was an unknown entity whose reaction couldn’t be predicted without further exposure. (Emilio wasn’t sure he wanted further exposure.)

The shopping continued, and Emilio continued trying to solve the puzzle presented to him throughout without cluing either man in on his suspicions. He was civil with Hector, even friendly; as long as the other man thought Emilio liked him, Emilio could continue gathering more information. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t still want to irritate Monty, even if it was far less fun when the cowboy was as withdrawn as he’d become throughout the shopping trip. Emilio tended to poke at people in hopes of gaining the satisfaction of a reaction, and Monty wasn’t giving him that anymore. And the more Hector spoke, the less Emilio liked him. It was clear that he was trying to get Emilio to like him, and the paranoid corner of his mind that had grown larger and larger of late insisted that there was some unknown ulterior motive behind this. Whatever Hector wanted from him, Emilio wasn’t sure he wanted to provide it. Mostly, he just wanted to get his groceries.

In the end, he was successful in that much, at least. Hector made short work of his list, and Emilio’s arms were full of bags full of shit he figured Teddy would be happy with. He nodded at the two undead men as they neared the entrance of the market. “Appreciate the help,” he said, glancing to Monty but keeping the majority of his attention focused on Hector. “Probably would have taken me all day to make it through that shit on my own. Maybe you can come by for dinner sometime.” He couldn’t be sure how much of his suspicion was valid and how much was his paranoia rearing its ugly head. Having the pair in his house, in a situation where he was in control, and with Teddy as an additional witness… that would help him figure this out. He was sure of it.

—

Monty remained quiet, his gaze distantly focused on the ground beneath their feet until they came to a slow stop, preparing to go their separate ways. As he lifted his chin again, he realized Emilio was inviting them over for dinner. A sense of dread started to climb up his spine and he flicked his gaze over to Hector to see what he’d say. There wouldn’t be any arguing it, at least not while Emilio was standing right in front of them. The reason he was inviting them over escaped Monty entirely: he knew that his dislike was mutually shared, so it certainly wasn’t a sudden change of heart. Hector might be charming, but he wasn’t that charming. Not enough to inspire something like that, especially not from someone so paranoid and angry as Cortez.

“Ah, so kind of you,” Hector answered for them both, that disarming smile never leaving his face. “We’d love to.” There was no attempt to ask for Monty’s confirmation this time — there wasn’t even so much as a glance in his direction, Hector’s focus solely on the man standing in front of him, zeroed in with a predatory focus. “I’ll have one of the boys get you my contact information.” The statement was marked with a playful wink, goodbyes were exchanged, and Monty didn’t speak a word until Emilio had disappeared from view. Hector was still staring at the spot they’d last seen him, and Monty could swear he saw the gears turning in the man’s head.

“He’s a hunter,” Monty explained bluntly, voice low and soft. “A slayer.” Hector smirked.

“Of course he is. And you haven’t killed him?” Monty looked back down at his feet, swallowing hard.

“It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?”

“Hector, please… can we just go home?” The man narrowed his eyes in the direction Emilio had gone, the smile falling from his face.

“Fine.” The question of whether or not it was Emilio’s intention to lure them somewhere where he could kill them went unspoken, which Monty was grateful for. He didn’t know how to answer, because he was pretty sure that Emilio wouldn’t try anything like that on him, at least, since… well, because of Kaden. And if he had to tell Hector that, then Hector was going to want to know what Kaden and Emilio had that bound them, and Monty just wasn’t prepared to lie about that. It was easier to say nothing at all.

He only hoped that these dinner plans would never come to pass, because he truly didn’t know what Emilio intended to gain from them. And he didn’t want to find out.

#. thread ;#. with ; emilio cortez #. obligation ;

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romancomicsblog · 2 years ago

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How Blue Beetle is the Hero James Gunn's DCU Needs

It is no secret the DC Universe has had its fair share of setbacks when it has come to live action films.

From trying to start a universe with Green Lantern, to Man of Steel starting the inconsistent DCEU, it has been hard to watch so many heroes wasted by studio interference, failed universe building, and let's just say, unorthodoxed takes on famous characters (I'm looking at you Joker and Lex).

Now we have an opportunity for a fresh start.

Director James Gunn has a new lineup of films consisting of big swings and fan favorite characters, hoping to build up the DCU we know and love.

In this new marriage between Warner Bros and Gunn, he has inherited 4 children from the previous marriage. The previous box office bomb Shazam! Fury of the Gods, the current box office bomb The Flash, the sequel to one of the biggest DCEU movies Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom, and Blue Beetle, the attempt at a new hero for the DCEU franchise who is somewhat left up in the air between DCEU and DCU.

While some have already chalked this up as another potential bomb, of the 4 movies, this has been my most anticipated.

Unlike the others, Blue Beetle I believe is in a prime slot as the right character, right time, not only to the general public, but to the DCU. Here's why:

1. The Flexibility of Blue Beetle

Unlike the characters Shazam, Flash, and Aquaman, Blue Beetle is not directly attached the DCEU.

Besides a mention of Batman, and the gear of (the probably late) Ted Kord, Blue Beetle doesn't have many connections to a wider DC Universe. He can exist in either, if they wish to continue one or both.

2. The World Building Potential

Blue Beetle opens up another part of the DC Universe in multiple different ways EARLY.

As the Scarab is a part of The Reach, this opens up a whole other side of DCU we have never seen, and potentially sets up an invasion storyline.

The Reach also have a deal with The Guardians of the Universe of Oa, setting him up for a potential Green Lantern crossover nicely.

But unlike many other heroes, Jaime Reyes isn't just a member of the Justice League...

He's a TEEN TITAN!

Jaime opens the door to young heroes existing already! The Teen Titans are a fan favorite, but he is also a member of Young Justice, who are equally as fun.

This is currently an untapped market for both DC and Marvel (though I'm sure the Young Avengers are coming). Jaime can act as a door between both, offering a perspective as the youngest member of the Justice League, and the senior member of the Titans.

3. Legacy Characters are IN

A particular kind at least.

If I had a nickel for every legacy character who is (vaguely) attached to a hero they admire, who take on that hero's name, with a similar but different set of powers, who then makes their old costume better, and who happen to be a person of color, I'd have three nickels. Which isn't a lot but it's weird that it has happened thrice.

The most famous of course is Miles Morales AKA Spider-Man, who has headed two incredible movies and a pretty sweet video game, along with several appearances in animation.

The second is fan favorite Kamala Khan AKA Ms. Marvel, who had a pretty solid show and also headed up a video game. While these are not as good as Mile's, they are both in the zeitgeist, and with her big film debut coming up in The Marvels, Iman Vellani has a bright future ahead of herself in and out of the MCU.

And finally, we have Blue Beetle! While he is a legacy character by name, he becomes Blue Beetle AFTER Ted Kord dies in comics, similar to Miles and Peter Parker. He carries the weight and legacy of a hero he never knew, and tries to do it his own way.

That is something audiences are loving right now, and Blue Beetle can tell a similar story.

and finally...

4. Xolo Maridueña is Perfect

You think I'm overselling him, but I'm not.

If you don't know his name yet, you will soon. As the star of Cobra Kai, Xolo plays Miguel, a kid from nowhere trying to live up to the legacy of man he deems great. If that isn't Jaime, I don't know what is.

Xolo plays every role he has with heart, charm, and has comedic timing to beat. As one of its leads, Xolo helped take Cobra Kai from a YouTube Red Series to one of Netflix's BIGGEST Shows.

And at only 22, he is young enough to play a late teen, and to be in this role for years to come.

In Marvel talk, we can very much be looking at DC's Tom Holland, and Blue Beetle could be Spider-Man Homecoming.

The bottomline is, I am beyond stoked for Blue Beetle, and as a Latinx fan, I know I'm gonna be there day 1, rooting for its success.

I hope to look back on this 10 years later, as the Justice League unite with Jaime up there with em, three movies under Xolo's belt, a fan favorite, with more to come.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to support me you can follow me on socials here!

#blue beetle #xolo maridueña #james gunn #dc universe #dc cómics #dceu #cobra kai #young justice #ms marvel #miles morales #spiderman across the spiderverse #dcu #teen titans #dc comics #legion of super heroes #superhero #the reach #scarab #black beetle

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ashortdropandasuddenstop · 11 months ago

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(Yes you reblogged memes but...sort of wanted an official meeting ask before the dynamite coffin🤣)

Springrose became a ghost town after the Orphan returned to take revenge on the superstitious townfolk encouraged by their preacher to murder her family. They long forgotten her name, her face; nobody knew Death was riding into the town on an oil slick black horse. Most tales focus on the spreading fire; just like how her house burned. Others lay the weight on the act of hanging the preacher. Some mention both. What remains the same in each version is the endorsed murder, the arrival of the gunfighter more than a decade ago to settle a long overdue debt and her disappearance after.

Springcreek was established around 50 miles away, survivors afraid of her possible return even though it has been over a hundred years. Many swore they saw a ghost, a wraith with the same horse as the orphan turned gunslinger in the abandoned town. A few, extremely brave people has left flowers, small trinkets near the once beautiful burned down house as condolences.

“I have seen men almost driven mad by lust.” the voice mused from a shadowy corner of the saloon after observation, one loud clank of steel heels as the other foot was set down

“Also familiar with the phrase ‘good enough to eat’, but.” there was always a but whenever she intervened “You seem to take that saying quite literally from what I see in your gaze.” and the woman leaned forward, pure ivory strands of hair falling from her hat, her eyes perhaps too bright emerald that almost seemed to glow in the setting dusk.

“It couldn't be that long time, stranger.” it could be said the newcomer can be considered a fine man appearance vise, surely working girls would even fight for his attention in any establishment. “And this area has an already bloody history, sure the locals already told their ghost stories. No need to add an another one.” soft spoken yet firm, not a threat, barely skirting a warning. Only her stare was akin to being caught in the crosshair, quite literally with the scarring around her right eye.

Inhuman green eyes people watched as if he were looking over feast instead of human beings. Yet, a voice managed to reach him through the noise of the ruckus. He sat with no drink infront of him, but full glass of water untouched. ( Un touched water.. in the desert??? )

Tortuga or Tombstone, Norrington saw these rowdy folk the same as pirates. They were the same rogues and ne'er-do-wells, just with a different accent.

Yet someone had noticed the vampire, her voice was exotic and cut through the minutia.

He listened to her words, each one a precise observation that struck at the heart of his condition. The mention of men driven mad by lust and the unsettling glint in her eyes spoke volumes about her experience and the battles she had fought.

Approaching her table, with a deliberate grace, the floorboards creaked under his boots. His gaze met hers—bright emerald eyes that seemed to pierce through the dusk matching the neon of his own, brought out by her very presence, the vampiric nature of him .

"I appreciate the poetry, Miss, but I'm not in the market for a lecture on my appetites, literal or otherwise."

He crosses his arms leaning back, hat tipped back. His voice-- accent too posh and English to be a cowpoke.

"Your insight is sharp," he admitted, steady and measured. " I've no doubt this town has seen its share of darkness, but I assure you, I am not here to add to its legends." Although the lost Dutchman mine in the superstitions did pique the pirate he was once and he would be adding to the blood spilled. There was no getting away from that.

#v: vampire #deathshadowed #Desert Blood

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papercuttragedy · 1 year ago

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WELCOME HOME PLAYFELLOW AU!!!!!

It's the year 1969, The Playfellow, a product known to make sentient puppets that serve as human companions spread like wildfire. Here this story is told through the eyes of Wally Darling, a dashing little fella who has been under the protection of his 'papa' (Playfellow Creator, Ronald Dorelaine) and longs to find a life for himself, as well as a whole cast of characters who try to adjust to life in The Big City coexisting between man and puppet (how are they able to live? Who knows, who cares.)

CHARACTERS (So Far)

THE PLAYFELLOWS (puppets who were made sentient and serve as human companions)

• Wally Darling – A Playfellow puppet that was adopted by the founder of the Playfellows, Ronald Dorelaine, who has taken care of Wally since his purchase date. He isn't the only puppet Dorelaine takes care of, as he has Home, an older prototype model who takes the role of a wise caretaker/friend/mentor for Wally. Wally often is taken to places by Ronald to annual events to meet and make children happy, but doesn't really have a lot of friends other than Home. Wally is also going through an existential crisis and longs to find out who he wishes to be. His Gem Heart is Blood Red.

• Barnaby B. Beagle – A Playfellow puppet that takes the appearance of a large, laid-back, blue dog who's serves as a roommate/bodyguard to a divorced comedian who happens to be friends with Dorelaine. He adapts his comedic jokes from his handler but also has a lonesome feeling of wanting something more than the life he lives, but feels trapped with feeling responsible for his handler. He becomes very close with Wally. His Gem Heart is Steel Blue.

• Frank Frankly – A Playfellow puppet who at first appears as a grumpy know-it-all, but is a secret softie with a love for books and bugs. His handler is a librarian who wanted to share his love for books to someone who had a similar interest. Frank deeply cares for his handler and helps out around the library. He's in a secret relationship with Eddie, to which only their handlers (who also happen to be in a relationship) seem to know about. He's best friends with Julie and would visit her whenever his handler goes for a haircut. His Gem Heart is Mustard Yellow.

• Julie Joyful – A Playfellow puppet with a bright, happy, and cheery personality who was purchased by a big, rowdy family along with her siblings (Franny, Bea, and Jonesy) as Christmas gifts for the little children, with Julie's handler being the youngest daughter. She and her siblings work in a salon that's owned by the mother. She's best friends with Frank and loves to have all sorts of styles. Her Gem Heart is Rose Pink.

• Poppy Partridge – A Playfellow puppet that has always had a paranoid personality. She mostly stays at home with her handler, an old woman who recently lost her husband and is looking for an emotional support friend. She often goes out with her handler, usually for grocery shopping, to the park for picnics, or visit her son's theater. She happens to be quite close friends with Sally, who likes to have her in rehearsals for plays, despite her stage fright. Her Gem Heart is Emerald Green.

• Sally Starlet – A Playfellow puppet who surprisingly isn't really owned by a handler but rather a theater known for its stunning performances. The owner of the theater wanted to try out new opportunities, and when the Playfellow puppets got really popular worldwide, he had to have one be in his theater. Sally lives for the stage and has made the theater her only home. Her determination for the spotlight has always made her eager for ambition and to bring newbies along, specifically Poppy. Her Gem Heart is Tangerine Orange.

• Howdy Pillar – A Playfellow puppet that's one you can say "married to his work." Ever since his purchase day, Howdy was always into some sort of marketing business, first with his previous handler (a door-to-door salesman), to his next handler (a happy-go-lucky retail owner), before finally being handed to an old man who owns a run-down grocery store. Howdy is practically a partial owner of the store and helps around with anything. Before his purchasing date, he had a huge family that was ultimately chaotic, which probably encouraged him to be a businessman and a businessman only. His Gem Heart is Turquoise Teal.

• Eddie Dear – A Playfellow puppet that has been taking the job of a mailman and works alongside his handler, a woman named Jen, who also happens to be a mailman. Eddie has a sweet country-boy charm that's hard to resist, yet can be quite forgetful at times (Jen and Frank often reminds him.) He's in a secret relationship with Frank, to which only Julie, and their handlers (who also happen to be in a relationship) seem to know. His Gem Heart is Eggplant Purple.

• Home – A Playfellow puppet that comes from an old prototype model, perhaps even the oldest Playfellow model ever made. Home doesn't really speak in the ways the newer models do. Rather, it speaks in onomonopieas that can be translated into Morse code. Home's handler is Playfellow Founder Ronald Dorelaine. It's a dear friend to Wally and has always enjoyed his company, even encouraging him to try something new. Home doesn't have a Gem Heart, silly-goose!

• Ronald Dorelaine – Founder and CEO of The Playfellow's Workshop, a company known to make living puppets that are given sentience by the power of love, (which is contained into their Gem Hearts to give them a life force) and is currently the handler of Wally Darling and Home. His Playfellow puppet product is a very popular worldwide topic that almost every human has, with the puppets being a companion of many sorts. These puppets are in constant learning mode and adapt their knowledge similar to humans. He brings Wally to annual events and parties to show him off, (mainly because the children love him so much) but often keeps Wally within the company of Home whenever he's busy doing more serious business. Many people often ask him how he was able to create the first ever living best friend, and to which he always says, "A magician never reveals his secret. But, that secret is often helped with the power of learning and love."

#welcome home #welcome home au #ORIGINAL STORY: DO NOT STEAL PLEASE.#I'm planning on writing this soon! :>#Who knows when tho...#maybe during the holidays or even next year....#who knows..#👀

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abookishdreamer · 2 years ago

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Character Intro: Favian (Kingdom of Ichor)

Age- 34 (immortal)

Location- Skyline district, New Olympus

Personality- An enlightened individual, he's quite pragmatic, creative, and values his capacity for deep thoughts & appreciation for the arts. There's always a new question or theory on the horizon. He's single.

He has the standard abilities of a god except shapeshifting. As the god of philosophy his other powers/abilities include photokinesis & telepathy. He also has various specialized powers based on the different schools of thought and philosophy.

Favian lives in a spacious condo at The Parthenos Plaza, a luxury building in the Skyline neighborhood of New Olympus. He shares the condo & is roommates with his best friend Neicus (god of debate & appeal). The inside of the condo is exquisitely spotless and organized. The interior design is sleek & modern with colors of steel gray, royal blue, cream, and beige. They pooled their money together & was able to buy the largest (and most expensive) flat screen TV on the market- measuring at 150 inches & costing 220,000 drachmas from iCHOR Tech. The TV is made with ultra chroma technology, has 4K ultra picture quality, built in Wi-Fi, and is touch screen operated as well as bluetooth friendly.

Favian has a single pet, his animal companion- a she-dragon named Dreamseer. A slender beauty, she's primarily covered in vibrant dark blue-green scales with silver crests and teal wings. She's his usual mode of transportation.

His immediate family includes his younger sister Sophia (goddess of thought). They're as close as any brother & sister, a constant thing for them getting into heated debates through text and in person, though all in good fun! Biweekly, they have a family dinner, usually at Sophia's brownstone.

A go-to drink for him is earl grey tea. He also likes dry martinis, scotch on the rocks, manhattans, white russians, pinot noir, and gin & tonics. His usuals from The Roasted Bean is an olympian sized roast coffee (with a bit of sugar) & a large chai latte.

Favian starts off his mornings at home doing a session of tobata yoga before jogging through Eaglepoint Park, ending the early hours with use of his premier gym membership at Fit 2 Be a God.

For breakfast he almost always goes for the spinach & artichoke baked egg souffle from The Bread Box.

One of his biggest vices are cigars- especially ones that are rolled with tobacco sourced from the Underworld.

In keeping with his "outworldly" way of thinking, Favian is a firm believer of traveling, being exposed to different people & cultures. He's been to most states in Olympius (including the deserted island Sicilios) and has traveled to the Underwater realm twice. He's currently planning his upcoming sabbatical to the Underworld.

A guilty pleasure for him are olympian sized cajun fries from Olympic Chef.

Favian is the latest male deity to be on a billboard in Acropolis Square modeling Thunderstruck briefs, the king's underwear brand.

For his most recent birthday, he was gifted a pair of Celestial Bronze cufflinks from his best bro!

Favian's main job is overseeing the philosophy department at New Olympus University. He personally teaches the ethics class. He's also an acclaimed writer of a few academic textbooks as well as literary works- including a popular steampunk series titled The Machinery of Alchemists. For other work & means of income he models for Platinum Alchemy, is a frequent guest co-host on the Nocturnal Thoughts podcast, and is a contributing writer for O Dianooumenos. He's also an executive producer on an upcoming social experiment TV show created and hosted by Litismós (goddess of culture).

His social circle includes Momus (god of mockery, satire, & ridicule), Pathos (god of emotion), Coeus (Titan god of foresight, intellect, & knowledge); his beloved mentor, his sister's girlfriend Eikono (goddess of iconography & literature), Dimósia (goddess of debate), Tmolus (one of The Ourea), Agathodaemon (Daemon) (god of vineyards, grainfields, & luck), Chiron (the immortal centaur), Psionikós (god of the mind), Isorropía (Isorro) (god of duality, balance, & equilibrium), Pistis (goddess of trust, reliability, & good faith), Orthosia (goddess of wealth), Aplistos (god of avarice), Aion (god of time, eternity, & the zodiacs), Moros (god of doom), Nomos (god of laws), Mnemosyne (Titaness of memory & language), Axiótimos (god of honor), Harpocrates (god of silence & discretion), Horkos (god of oaths), Aletheia (goddess of truth), Sophrosyne (goddess of moderation, temperance, & restraint), Apólafsi (god of enjoyment), and Achelous (god of freshwater).

Favian also admires Atlas (Titan god of strength & endurance).

His favorite dessert is the tiramisu from Hollyhock's Bakery. He also likes his sister's rasmalai.

As far as his romantic life, Favian is enjoying his singledom after getting out of a long term relationship with Mesembria (Bria) (goddess of the afternoon). It's been awkward still being in contact with each other seeing how Favian is a financial backer for her business. Now he's keeping romantic encounters on the casual side. Favian hooked up with a siren dancer at a burlesque show he went along with Momus & Neicus and he's had a one night stand with Amphictyonis (Amy) (goddess of diplomacy).

He's currently seeing a model named Almada, who's a maenad.

Favian appreciates his close bond & friendship with Dimósia. They posted videos of themselves doing viral dances on Fatestagram and has even slept over each other's places. There have been a few times where he wonders if there could be more.

His most viewed video on his PanopTube channel is his vlog at The Luxe where he partook in the most expensive tacos (along with Neicus)- a gold flake infused corn tortilla added with kobe beef, beluga caviar, black truffle brie cheese, and an exotic salsa blend made from scorched tartarus peppers sourced from the Underworld). It cost a whopping 25,000 drachmas!

His all time favorite meal is spanokopita with his sister's chicken saagwala.

"The mind once enlightened cannot again become dark."

#my oc #original character #my original oc #oc character #my character #my oc character #oc intro #character intro #oc introduction #character introduction #modern greek mythology #modern greek gods #greek myth retellings #greek gods #greek mythology #greek myths #greek pantheon

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